Sherlock's Noble Role
by MadameHappy
Summary: In the midst of a killer, Sherlock has to perform on stage. John has high expectations. Set after The Empty Hearse and before The Sign of Three.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE**

This fanfiction was made both as a little idea I wanted to spew, and as an entry to a fanfiction club (I love my school).

DISCLAIMER: The only way I am associated to the show Sherlock, BBC or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is through my hyperactive imagination.

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><p><strong>Sherlock's Noble Role<strong>

**By MadameHappy**

It was over a perfectly normal cup of tea when Sherlock placed his tickets on the coffee table, displaying them to John and Mary. "Musical," he declared. "I'm in it."

John looked at the tickets, exchanged glances with Mary, then looked back at Sherlock, who was staring at him in all seriousness. "Right," he said, grabbing the tickets and stuffing them into Mary's purse. "I'm assuming it's for a case and moving on."

"Potential serial killer, killed two victims from the same theatre group during their performances on stage." Sherlock stuffed his fingers in his trouser pockets. "Have every reason to believe that the next act will have another kill."

Mary sipped her tea. "You know, I sort of expected this sort of case to pop up at some point. You on a stage and all."

John had to agree- in fact, he wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock went through such lengths for the sake of a serial killer before. He supposed that Sherlock had no qualms with performing or acting, if all his crocodile tears and 'normal guy' facades are anything to go by. Certainly Sherlock didn't mind dramatics.

I mean, _look_ at him.

Sherlock's long billowing coat is always swishing at every turn, coat collar always up, twirling around a crime scene and following its wearer around like a bloody ballerina's tutu. It didn't help that Sherlock's footing would probably bring a ballerina to tears. John couldn't help but imagine Sherlock on a stage, wearing a black tutu, dancing with sugarplum fairies, wearing makeup, the light shining into his hair as he danced and did back flips...

"What's so funny?"

John covered the grin on his face and shook his head. "Nothing, nothing just- can't wait to see you perform."

After a moment of staring Sherlock turned to Mary. "Show starts tomorrow night, says so on the ticket," he said. "I trust you'll bring your gun with you. Not to worry about security, I'm sure you can, ah, outsmart them in your own soldier-like way."

"It's not the only thing I'm sneaking in," John muttered to Mary's ear as Sherlock turned himself away. "Got a camera?"

Mary grinned mischievously. "I'll take care of that."

"And that's why we're getting married."

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><p>All jokes aside, John <em>was <em>looking forward to the play. He knew Sherlock was a bloody good actor when he needed to be- and this being a play, he really _had _to be good. John had no worries that Sherlock wouldn't be anything other than bloody brilliant.

Mary had sneaked the camera in with her when the day of the play arrived, placing it on her lap, angled towards the stage.

John grinned as she pressed record. "Good job, Mary Morstan."

"Mary _Watson,_ don't you forget."

The curtain rose. John had read the details of the play beforehand, discovering that it was a comedy about a family getting lost in an apparently magical wood. Sherlock's name wasn't mentioned, which wasn't surprising. Being the famous name that he is, he probably disguised his name to prevent the killer from avoiding the play.

However, when the characters of the family appeared on the screen, John was surprised that Sherlock wasn't among them. He would have expected Sherlock to be a main character.

_But not a main protagonist,_ John realized. _Sherlock was always more of the villain type._

As he waited for Sherlock's appearance, John enjoyed himself, and almost forgot the purpose of watching the play. The show turned out to be terribly well scripted and the actors were hilarious, tripping over themselves most of the time with the clumsiness of their characters and the villains were hilariously done.

The trees, as it was later discovered, were _also_ being performed by actors, which shuffled around slowly for every scene change, and every one in a while one of the trees would make a quip, probably throwing tomatoes or insulting the family's clothing.

Soon it was the end of the play, and the family, after a lot of effort, had found the exit from the magical forest. John still wondered where Sherlock was, and whether or not he was ever going to show up when out of nowhere, a masked man had appeared opposite the family, holding a gun that looked terribly real. It was aimed at the daughter of the family, and before anyone could do anything, the bullet was fired.

The bullet hit a tree.

One of the trees had tilted itself in front of the daughter at the very last second, getting the bullet through the trunk and the tree went timber down the stage. In the shock of the moment, John shot the serial killer in the knee, incapacitating him.

"Call the police!" John yelled at the audience, bounding onto the stage. The actors backed away as John stormed up, yelling to let him through, he was a doctor, and he tore away the bark of the tree actor's costume and removed the mask that hid his face.

Sherlock Holmes stared at him from inside the tree costume, looking bored and not in the least bit of pain.

"Mind removing the bullet vest from the tube?"

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><p>Barely two days later, a new entry had been made onto John's blog, named <strong><span>The Vigilantree, <span>**which became one of the most popular entries on his website. The popularity of the post was credited also to the comments section, which told another story.

Must you always make an entry for everything?  
><strong><span>Sherlock Holmes<span>**

This one especially.  
><strong><span>John Watson<span>**

Titles still as horrible as always I see.  
><strong><span>Sherlock Holmes<span>**

Don't forget, Sherlock, I have blackmail. Mary has a photo of your tree costume. I can send this photo to Mycroft easily. I bet he'd LOVE to see his little brother as a tree.  
><strong><span>John Watson<span>**

It's a noble role. It provides background. It gives you a perfect view of your targets while at the same time gets you no notice from the target. It's perfect.  
><strong><span>Sherlock Holmes<span>**

And it's hilarious. You're right. It's noble. And people should see how noble this is. Maybe I should share your nobility and oh-so-great heroism to the world. With a photo. On my blog.  
><strong><span>John Watson<span>**

Give me the photo you evil man.  
><strong><span>Sherlock Holmes<span>**

If you want it, come and get it.  
><strong><span>John Watson<span>**

You better fear for your life.  
><strong><span>Sherlock Holmes<span>**

John dear, is everything alright? Sherlock just ran out, saying your name and mentioning lots of nasty things.  
><strong><span>Mrs Hudson<span>**

Crap. Better find a hiding spot with Wi-Fi.  
><strong><span>John Watson<span>**

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><p><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTE<strong>  
><span>

**EDIT: **I have made the slightest change in my fanfiction. Just a few changes for the single line breaks.

I appreciate the reviews I already have, and will appreciate the reviews that I hope to get.

_-Happy_


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